


Mentality Or Morality

by Lady_Poison_Heart (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Angst, Dark Tony Stark, Homophobia, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Sexual Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:43:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lady_Poison_Heart
Summary: Peter wasn't sure how they found out, it wasn't like he actively went around advertising that he liked sucking dick, but they did. And lets just say being gay is not a good thing, for three days He was alienated by his friends, people avoiding him in the halls at school and in the streets like he had the plague. So he wasn't surprised when he was hauled from his bed, or when neither of his foster parents, or his “siblings” objected as he was dragged like an animal from the place he'd lived since a few months after his parents murder----Although the stranger seemed to grow bored as the hands traveled down further until his legs were pressed softly, but firmly apart. He shouldn't be enjoying this he supposed, and his brain was screaming at him to run, to flee. But his head felt like it was full of cotton balls and he couldn't quite remember why he wasn't supposed to enjoy it.





	Mentality Or Morality

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dark fic, you have been warned. You can also find this fic on my Marvel themed Tumblr, A-Starker-Sister. If you find it anywhere else please contact me.

Peter wasn't sure how they found out, it wasn't like he actively went around advertising that he liked sucking dick, but they did. And lets just say being gay is not a good thing, for three days He was alienated by his friends, people avoiding him in the halls at school and in the streets like he had the plague. So he wasn't surprised when he was hauled from his bed, or when neither of his foster parents, or his “siblings” objected as he was dragged like an animal from the place he'd lived since a few months after his parents murder. The drive was long, and the two males in the van with him refused to tell him where they were going, or what was happening. But Peter wasn't stupid, nor was he naive enough to think he would be going anywhere but a correctional facility, although he supposed a better word would be mental asylum.

A low sigh escaped his lips as he slumped back in his seat, honey colored eyes glued on his hands as they sat on his lap. The drive was mostly silent, he'd giving up trying to get answers from the two stoic males in the front seat. Leaning forward, Peter pressed his forehead against the window, enjoying the coolness against his flesh, but before he could relax, his face was slammed violently into the window as the van went from tarmac to gravel. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, although they narrowed to slits as the vehicle stopped. In front of his was his future, and it looked like the main setting of some shitty horror written by a mother of three named Susan, or Margaret. Not that it really mattered, for all he knew, he may never see the outside of the building again, he may never see the outside of anything ever again. Realistically, unless his reformation was a success, and he somehow avoided commiting suicide, then he would likely die in this building.

The door he was leaning against was pulled away roughly and he nearly fell out, a hand gripping his arm tightly enough to leave bruises. Peter shivered as he stepped out, his pajamas doing nothing to stop the coldness reaping into his bones. The gravel crunched as he was dragged up the steps, his eyes sputtering around frantically as the reality of what was happening slammed into him like a freight train. Panic and terror churned and coiled in his stomach, tightening his chest and forcing the air from his lungs. But fear would not help him here, it would only drive him further and further from his sanity. Darkness burned at the edges of his vision creeping closer and closer the longer his lungs were denied of oxygen. His fist clenched involuntarily, his nails digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood. The new pain sparked his brain back into movement and half a second later his foot slammed up between the males legs. The hand on his shoulder disappeared as the male went down like a sack of potatoes, Peter lunged rabidly at the other hands scratching at his eyes until he regained his awareness enough to make his foot once again meet flesh, although this time it was the second males stomach. A cackling sound reached peters ears, but not before something shark jabbed into his neck. Snarling, Peter jerked about for a moment as the darkness returned to his vision and fatigue made his flailing limbs heavy and unresponsive. He shrieked as his head slammed into the floor, losing consciousness as his skull rebounded of the tiles.

\-----

Peter came back to consciousness slowly, his eyes fluttering open to reveal honey colored eyes and large, blown pupils. His eyebrows bull together as he shivered, noting the cold metal pressed against his flesh. He dully realises he's naked, and tied down, although he's still too out of it to be alarmed, he's too out of it to do anything really. So he is forced to just lay their, desperately trying to regain control of his brain and his body, although that proves to be like trying to grab air. He gives up eventually, forced to stare blankly up at the ceiling, his eyes staring blankly at the metallic surface.

“Hello, kitten”. 

The voice is rough and sends goosebumps bursting along his flesh, but also causes his body to relax further, although the action is involuntary and Peter was sure it was impossible for himself to relax anymore. A low whine comes from the back of his throat as a calloused hand rubs over his jaw and down his chest. Peter tries to respond, but the sound he makes is slurred far beyond recognition and even he isn't sure what he was trying to say. 

“My poor baby, you must be so confused. Don't worry baby boy, daddy's going to take care of you”. The male coo's, sending shivers up peters spine. 

A face appears in front of Peter and he barely makes out the males face from behind his half closed lids. The male is attractive, big brown eyes, tanned skin, strong jaw, facial hair. But the darkness, the malice in his eyes is unnerving. As if he is trying to hide his true intent, wich Peter supposed he was. The hands rubbing up and down his torso brush over his nipples, the coldness of the man's fingers sending jolts up Peters spine. The hands stay their, brushing over the nubs until they grew hard and sensitive. Although the stranger seemed to grow bored as the hands traveled down further until his legs were pressed softly, but firmly apart. He shouldn't be enjoying this he supposed, and his brain was screaming at him to run, to flee. But his head felt like it was full of cotton balls and he couldn't quite remember why he wasn't supposed to enjoy it. 

A cold, lubed finger rubbed against peters entrance, pressing all the way in in one solid movement. The intrusion seemed to jar his brain into action and he jerked around on the surgical bed, limbs shaking with effort as he struggled against his restraints. The male tutted.

“Don't worry baby, you'll learn to enjoy it”.

Something sharp jabbed into Peters neck, and after a few moments the feeling of being underwater returned, and so did the digit presses into his ass. The finger pumped in and out a few times before being joined by another.

“This is where you get all your pleasure from now”. The man hissed, pounding the fingers, now three of them, into Peters ass. After a few moments they pause and begin rubbing over his prostate, a low whine escapes Peter as his thighs begin to shake. He lazily tries to bring his legs together as tightness builds in his lower stomach and between his legs. Although the orgasm keeps building, the sensation never quite enough to make him cum. The male seems to realise he needs something more, and a snarl escapes him.

“Cum”. He orders, voice culled with barely concealed anger. 

Peter just sobbed, too close to do anything as his chest quivers and tears track from the corner of his eyes to his hairline. A few seconds later a hand slaps down against his cock, the pain forcing a shriek from his lips as his hips jar. Followed by another as he came, Peters eyes roll back and drool slides down the side of his mouth as he slams his skull back into the metal bed. His orgasm splattering across his tummy. The male seems content as he continues rubbing over peter's special spot until he is a whining, squirming mess. 

“Good boy”. He praised, hands pulling away from peters body to run through his hair, no doubt leaving lube to liter the brown curls. “Daddy's so proud of you. I think I'm going to keep you, Would my baby like that?”. Peter only sobs in response.


End file.
